


A Lesson in Protecting One's Heart

by CrimsonBitch



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Beverly Marsh is a Good Friend, Childhood Trauma, F/M, Female-Centric, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kid Fic, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Recreational Drug Use, Richie Tozier Being an Asshole, Richie Tozier is a Mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21760705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonBitch/pseuds/CrimsonBitch
Summary: By the fifth grade, Beverly Marsh knows a lot of things. She knows all the states, and their respective capitals. She knows how to do long division with four digit numbers. She knows the water cycle and that plants make sugar through photosynthesis. However, she'll never need these things.Lucky for her, she also knows useful things. She knows how to keep her trap shut when the guidance counselor meets with her for the second time that month, because teachers are worried about how quiet she is. She knows how to shoplift concealer from the pharmacy in order to cover up evidence of what her dad won't remember doing the next morning. If the marks are too dark, she knows the best clothes to wear to cover them.One day though, Bev starts not knowing things, such as why the teacher made the loud kid with the messy black hair sit next to her. She doesn't know why he won't stop talking to her, and she doesn't know if she likes that or not.Someday hopefully Bev will have answers to these questions, but for now she'll have to deal with being clueless. Middle school is hard.EDIT: Ya girl gave up sorry y'all
Relationships: Beverly Marsh/Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	1. The Art of Silence

Beverly liked to think she was tough. In fifth grade, a guidance counselor at the school said she had severe trust issues. Beverly didn’t know what this meant, but she did know that the night before her mother left, she had held Beverly in bed while they waited for the local bartender to kick her father out. 

“Never trust a man like him, Bevvy” Her mother whispered, “you’ll only get hurt”

Beverly didn’t exactly understand trust, but everytime she left her door unlocked at night, she would wake up with hickies in her inner thigh. By now, she thinks she could make the run to the bathroom with her eyes closed, because the stomach acid churning in her stomach wouldn’t wait for her to feel around in the dark. 

Beverly didn’t understand why she “shouldn’t let your trust issues interfere with current relationships”, if trust issues were the only thing keeping her from waking up to the stench of warm beer breath being ghosted across her lips, then she’ll gladly stick with the trust issues. 

Lecture me on this shit when your dad starts touching you Mrs. Kellian.  
\------------------  
She was in sixth grade when she saw Richie for the first time. Actually, they had been in the same school for the years preceding that, but she had mastered the art of flying below the radar. 

The more friends she makes, she higher chance there is that one of them notices the bruises she artfully covers with her hair. The irony of covering hickies with a childrens size 12 turtleneck was not lost on her, it was just easier to not think about it. 

The teacher had gotten tired of shushing Richie. As long as they were allowed to choose their own seats, the more Richie could whisper comments to Stan, and the more Stan could shush him, eliciting a loud response. 

The teacher pointed at him with a two week old manicure, then at the empty seat at the table Bev sat at, the often housed her backpack, filled with notes of all the little sarcastic comments she wanted to say but didn’t want to garner the attention for. 

You see, if there’s one thing Bev was scared of more than attracting attention, it was losing her personality. She feared that without speaking to anyone, she would lose the ability to connect with other people. 

To remedy tis, she would write down everything she was thinking, then review it later. She thought of herself as pretty funny, taking comfort in the fact that if there was a time she felt comfortable to talk, she would have a decent personality.

“Hey there red, whats your name?” Richie asked as he dropped into the seat loudly, not seeming like he really gave two shits. 

“Uh.. Bev”  
“Thats a nice name”  
“Thanks”

And that was the start of everything.  
\------------------  
As the days went on, Bev began to rue having a seatmate. She liked to whisper her sarcastic comments to herself, and having someone next to her meant she couldn’t do so without seeming insane. 

“Today, class, we’ll be learning about rock layers”  
“I’m more interested in how many layers of foundation it took to hide you green scales” Bev whispered 

Richie burst into laughter. 

“Is something funny Mr. Tozier?” The teacher demanded, whipping around to give him the stink eye”  
“Nothing Mrs. Leavens” Richie gasped out between bouts of laughter, before finally composing himself 

“That was fuckin’ funny Red. Don’t know where you pulled that one out of but if you’ve got more of it then we’re gonna get along just fine”  
“I’ve got plenty, and I have a name, you know”  
“Beth?”  
“Nice try”  
“Ben”  
“Now i’m just offended”  
“I’m joshing Bev. I may be stupid but I can remember a name if it means getting to talk to you again” 

Bev blushed, and tuned her attention to the back of the head in front of her 

“Im glad for you”

Richie didn’t have a response to this, so he smirked and turned to face the teacher, obviously not paying attention. He was asleep within minutes.  
\---------------------  
The thing is, Beverly isn’t stupid. She never has been. Most teachers assume she is, because she rarely raises her hand to ask or answer questions, but she isn’t. The first time they grade her tests, the teachers almost always realize this girl could easily skip a grade, but every time they’ve asked her about it, she’s shook her head vehemently, not offering an explanation, let alone a goodbye as she hurries out of the room. 

Over time, many teachers find her silence unnerving. They’ll call on her in class, and the “I don’t know” is disproven when they read the exact question answered correctly on the homework from the night before. Eventually, they stop asking her things in class. They don’t count participation in her grade, because they know she pays attention. 

The only teacher that refused this was Mrs. Leavens, who was convinced the silence could be fixed by force, as she made clear in a meeting with the principal, Mr. Knowles.

“it’s not healthy John. Ladies her age should be talkative. I can hardly get the other girls in the class to shut up and say the pledge of allegiance. It’s been weeks since I’ve heard her say a word other than responding when I call her name for attendance”

“I’m sure it’s nothing, Carol. Some kids bloom later than others. We can wait an see if her attitude changes as time goes on”

“This has been going on for years John! She’s should at least be tested for autism or something! Or maybe we should look into her home life. I’ve had a handful of kids who have taken a voluntary vow of silence, and I almost guarantee there’s something wrong at home” 

“Carol, that’d a lot of time and effort spent on a student you barely know. Her father could sue us for an accusation like that”

“It’s not an accusation John. If we get it investigated we have probable cause or something. I don’t know exactly how the law works, I just want students to be safe. Not to mention we have got to find a way to make that girl talk” 

“Look Carol, I know her Dad, he and I go way back. There’s no way that there’s anything going on there. If you want to make the girl talk, make her talk, but I’m not authorizing any investigations into some dead end all because you haven’t given her enough opportunity to say her piece. Now I’ll see you later Carol”

“Well if you’re sure John” Mrs. Leavens said as she stood up from the chair slowly “I’ll just try harder”

“That’s the spirit. Some kids just need someone to push them”

Mrs. Leavens nodded her head determinantly as she left the room. 

\---------------------

“Now class, who can tell me what year it was that Christopher Columbus sailed, and the name of the three ships… Anyone?... How about you, Beverly/” Mrs Leavens called to the silent classroom. 

“I- I don’t know Maam” Beverly said back weakly

“Are you sure?” Mrs. Leavens continued 

Beverly nodded her head. She felt her heartbeat pick up as a few heads turned to her. 

“Really, because you have it written right here on your homework” Mrs. Leavens said as she displayed the answer messily scrawled on the worksheet she assigned yesterday. “Now why would you do that Beverly? You clearly knew the answer” 

At this point, the whole class started giggling, and Bev felt tears burn against her eyes. She didn’t respond, sure if she opened her mouth, the only sound she would be able to make is a violent sob. 

“What the fuck was tha-” Richie started, making a confused face at the teacher, and cut off when Beverly put a hand on his shoulder. He looked down at her hand, and noticed she had painted her nails light pink last night, but it looked like she had already chipped off some of the polish.

“Screw you” Beverly grated out as she collected her things and stomped from the room, using her long red hair to cover up the tears streaming down her face at this point.  
She slammed the door behind her. If she was going to make a scene, she would rather it be because she was angry rather than the truth, which was that her hands were shaking and she felt sick to her stomach with nerves. Normal kids don’t feel this way. No need to get noticed for it.  
\-------------------

“Red? You in here?” Richie called into the dark girls bathroom. His only response was a sniffle from the third stall. “You okay Beverly? I’m sorry about Mrs. Leavens. She can be a real bitch sometimes” 

“I’m good Richie. Th-Thanks though”

“I don’t really believe you, but I’ll take it” Richie said. Beverly didn’t respond at all

“I’m gonna go red. Hope you feel better” Richie said as he knocked on the stall door reassuringly and left.

Beverly let out a big breath and wondered to herself whether she was grateful to be left alone.


	2. Bruises and Notes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Added Richie's POV finally, and we do a little well-deserved Richie character development.

After that day, things felt different between them. Every morning, Richie would make a concerted effort to talk to Beverly, whether she replied or not. You see, Richie wasn’t stupid either. Most teachers assumed he was because of how much he talked, but at the end of the day, the school was simply too busy to test him for the ADHD that obviously permeated his presence. Him and Bev should form a club. 

He may not be school smart, necessarily (he was really good at math, shockingly), but he was pretty people-smart. He saw the way that Bev would perk up when she knew the answer. Her hand would twitch, as if begging to be raised, but she would school her expression and clench her fist. Richie saw the way she would wear loose dresses and oversized coats, trying to hide the body underneath. He had never seen her hair up but one time she had spun around, spooked by the creak of the furnace, and he saw the mark on her neck.

It wasn’t until later that night he realized that she was the first person in their grade he had ever seen with a hickie.

Beverly didn’t talk much, but Richie was more than willing to fill up the empty silence. She never seemed to mind, so he would go on, waxing stories out of anything from what he got on the latest history quiz to the fact that he found one of his old action figures in his dog’s vomit that morning. 

Richie didn’t know what was happening at home for Beverly, but ever since the guidance counselor asked him what happened at his, he promised not to pry into other people’s lives. That shit was the worst. He would wait for Beverly to open up at all, and in the meantime, there was no reason he shouldn’t crack a few jokes. 

One morning, Richie fell into his chair, and Beverly jumped a little at the noise. Beverly’s father had removed the lock on the door, and she hadn’t slept at all that night. Luckily, he passed out drunk in his chair before he could give her more marks to cover up. More marks to cry about in the school bathroom when her makeup began to wear off. 

“Why miss Bev! What a fine occasion to see a fine young lady like yourself” Richie said loudly, playing up his hammy british accent. 

“Leave me alone Richie” Beverly grouched as she pulled up her hood and rest her face on the table

“Red… Redredredredred” Richie repeated as he started poking her arm “Talk to meeeee”

He didn’t know it, but he accidentally poked a bruise her father had given her, grabbing her as she tried to leave the house to go to the corner store. 

“Richie” Beverly hissed as she lifted her head, “Just fucking talk to yourself! You’ve never had a problem any other time! Or even better, just shut the fuck up for ten consecutive seconds! Maybe then you’ll actually learn something in this class and can do better than a D” 

Richie blinked at her, before turning his head back to the board. Beverly wouldn’t know that she struck a nerve, but his grades were actually something he was insecure about. He knew he could do well, he just never had the focus to sit down and finish his work. Especially not with a cute redhead right next to him. 

He was unable to focus for the rest of class, because he was too busy trying to figure out what her outburst was about. She usually didn’t seem to mind his talking. He concluded that either this was an off day, or she’s just a bitch and he’s even worse at reading social cues than he thought he was. 

After class, she rushed out the door and he followed 

“Red… Red! Why won’t you talk to me? Bev? Bev!” “Shut the fuck up and leave me alone” Bev shouted as he caught up to her, grabbing her arm and spinning her around. Richie dragged her into the empty classroom. 

“Richie please just leave me the fuck alone”

“Fine, slut, be that way I guess. See how much I care” he conceded, throwing her arm away from himself. 

“Slut?” she questioned 

“Yes slut. Don’t think I haven’t seen the hickies on your neck. I thought you had to talk to get kissed but guess I was wrong”

Beverly was shocked. Too shocked to say anything. Too shocked to move. 

“Don’t you dare say any-” Her voice broke “anything”

“Why, don’t want the whole school to know thAT BEVERLY MARSH IS A SLU-MMF” Richie raised his voice towards the end, just as Bev rushed over to him and smothered his mouth. 

“You can’t say shit like that Rich. You don’t understand why, but trust me, if you tell people about the hickies, nobody wins and I’ll never forgive you”

“Why?” Richie asked, genuinely curious. If Richie was getting laid, he’d want everyone to know. 

“Don’t worry about it Richie. You don’t want to know anyway” Bev grumbled as she shoved his shoulder on her way out of the room

_Now there’s something you don’t hear everyday_ Richies thought. He wasn’t sure what was going on with her, but he was sure that it wasn’t good, and he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to get involved. 

\-----------------------

Richie, much like Bev, was presumed stupid. He rarely did the homework, he never paid attention in class (if he could even stay awake through it), and he preferred doodling in his notebook to any actual classwork. However, contrary to this, Richie was far from stupid. He knew how to do long division. He knew the names of all of Christopher Columbuses ships, and he understood the difference between a plant and animal cell.

If anyone at school looked past the annoying outer shell for two minutes, they could definitely get him tested for ADHD (he was pretty much a textbook case). Unfortunately, he went to a public school in buttfuck nowhere, and everyone had better things to do than try to sympathize with the obnoxious kid who disrupted all their classes. 

Richie had learned to deal with it. The constant energy pulsing under his skin. He had to let the energy out, or else he’d end up curled up in the bathroom on the floor, with his hands on his ears, sobbing while his parents scream at each other downstairs, feeling like the walls were closing in on him and he can’t breathe very well. 

After getting backhanded by his father in the fourth grade, Richie learned fast that it’s easier if he waits until the yelling stops to leave the bathroom, even once the shaking and crying stops. 

Richie has found that the best way to starve off the shaking and crying is to let out all the energy. It’s not his fault that the teachers don’t understand this. When he whispers to Stan in the middle of class, or when he bounces his foot, or when his essay turns into poorly-done doodles of the cartoon he watched that morning, he was just trying to make sure that he wouldn’t end up on his bedroom floor later that night, feeling each and every one of the carpet fibers digging into his back. 

Anyways, Richie isn’t stupid. When someone has hickies they don’t want to talk about, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s going on.

Whether the bruises come in the form of hickies splattered over your chest and thighs, or shiners that your friends know better than to ask about, Richie has become decently proficient at blaming the father. 

(and he often found he was right)

\----------------------------

It was a rainy Wednesday when Richie came into class looking like death warmed over. Bev only took one glance at him and was overcome by a sense of sympathy for the boy who had done nothing but annoy and bother her since the beginning of their time together. 

Richie strolled into the room, his usual energy lacking. His dark circles were pronounced, visible even with the glasses. He was pale, and Bev thought he might be wearing the same clothes as yesterday. He seemed unstable on his feet, and if one looked closely at his hands in motion, they would be able to observe a slight tremble. All together, Bev thought he looked about five steps from collapsing on the spot. 

In reality, she wasn’t that far off. 

“You okay?” She whispered to him as he sat down. He nodded his head, and waved off her concern. She saw the way his hands shook when he pulled his hoodie off, and bunched it up on the desk to use as a pillow. The thing that interested Bev the most was that he hadn’t bounced his foot once since sitting down. She hadn’t know that since learning, as a baby, that he had control over his limbs, he had ever stopped. 

Richie yawned once and proceeded to lay his head down on the sweatshirt and fall asleep. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, but Bev was far too disturbed by the state of him to kick his foot and wake him up like she usually did. 

Bev guessed she wasn’t the only one that noticed how poorly Richie looked, because for all the teacher disproved of him sleeping in class, she didn’t bother him once. 

\-------------------------

Richie couldn’t be more glad for the lack of disturbance. He hadn’t had the best night. 

The fighting had been worse last night than he had remembered for a long time. By the time the crying was done and he was worn out, they still hadn’t finished. He ended up asleep in the bathroom, dinner having been forgotten about (since the fight had started over what the two wanted for dinner, and ended with listing all major character flaws, right before his Dad got physical). Richie spent the night on cold, hard, tile, but still didn’t wake up before his father was banging on the locked bathroom door. 

His dad was running late for work because the bathroom was locked, and Richie got a slap on the cheek for making him late, before being ushered out the door for school by his mother, who seemed more frantic and subdued than usual. 

Nobody seemed to realize his school didn’t start for another forty-five minutes. 

Richie realized full well that he could’ve gone to a friend’s house, or maybe a diner for breakfast, but he had no money on him, and the only friend’s house address he had memorized was Eddie’s.

Eddie didn’t appreciate drop-ins, and Richie could usually only sneak them in if his Dad had been particularly awful. Enough so, that despite knowing his Dad usually stopped after a few blows, he didn’t want to sleep in his house. Richie had learned that Eddie has some superpower that lets him know these things without being told. 

Or maybe his vision is just good enough to see the tear tracks on Richie’s face, or he sees how Richies’ hands shake as he knocks on the window, well past Eddie’s bedtime. Richie won’t ever admit to any of it (not that Eddie needs him too).

Now, Richie is sitting with his head down in History class, pretending to be asleep so he can avoid the curious gazes of his classmates, especially his seatmate. He doesn’t believe in Karma, but he will say he regrets trying to pry into her life when he saw her bruises. 

His predicament gets enough attention from his friends, and he doesn’t need another Eddie, shoving food down his mouth and ointment on his bruises, or another Stan, who likes answers and dislikes Richie’s evasive replies. He especially doesn’t need another Bill, who he’s caught, on multiple occasions, slipping pamphlets about “Domestic Abuse in the Home” in his locker. 

He asked Bill later that day why he’d put a pamphlet about marital abuse and womens’ shelters in his locker, and Bill guiltily admitted that while they didn’t have one on child abuse, he figured this would get the point across. 

Bev’s quiet inquiry of wellbeing didn’t give Richie any insight as to how she’d react, but when he woke up to Stan shaking his shoulder, she (along with the rest of the class) had left. All that remained was a note on ripped notebook paper sitting on her desk. 

_I know what it’s like to not want to talk about something. I’m here if you ever want to talk about it. Or we could just not talk about it together. I figure that might be nice too. -_ ~~_Red_ ~~ _Beverly_

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! Real excited to start adding more character (although don't worry, Bev will still be the focus). Personally I think this chapter's a little boring and that I need to be a little more plot heavy and less detail heavy. I don't know. Maybe I'd like it if I hadn't written it. Anyways please let me know what you think, or what you want to see writing-wise.  
> Toodles!  
> -V


	3. Secret Admirer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bev's social circle has expanded in the past few days more than it had for the six years she had spent in that goddam school system.

“Hey there Red” Richie announced in Bev’s ear, as he slammed his lunchbox down on the spot next to hers, the rest of the lunch table desolate. 

Bev jumped about 6 inches in the air 

“What the fuck Richie? You scared the shit out of me” she griped, coughing out the piece of PB&J she nearly choked on. 

“You wanna talk?” he whispered “Let’s do it, just not about that” 

“Wha-”

“Over here guys!” Richie shouted, suddenly noticing and waving at something behind Bev. “Raggedy Anne? Meet my friends, Shorty, Stuttery, and Jew-y” 

“Shut the f-fuck up R-Richie” a tall brunette said as he sat down across from Bev. 

“Yeah Rich” continued a short, tan boy with a fanny pack, “Just because you can’t get a girlfriend isn’t a reason to try and induce stockholm syndrome on random girls” 

A blond, curly-haired boy sighed as he sat down. “Honestly Richie, I can never get if your trying to offend me or trying to be funny, but neither is working” 

“Ye olde mates? Meet me newest mate, Belle” Richie stole one of Bev’s napkin in attempts at a make-shift eye patch, and waved around her fork like a sword. 

“It’s Bev, and it’s nice to meet you all” Bev grunted, wrestling the cutlery out of Richie’s sweaty grip. 

“Nice to meet you. And the name’s B-B-Bill, not stuttery” The brunette flashed her a smile and a small wave. 

“Despite my nickname being arguably the least offensive, I prefer to go by Eddie” 

“You seem like a smart girl, so I’m sure you didn’t think my name was Jew-y, but it’s Stan, by the wa-”

Stan was cut off by a lob on mashed potatoes, flung at the back of his head. All four whipped around to see Bowers and his crew laughing their asses off. 

“Hey there losers, you bringing a girl into your group?” Henry called out “Y’all sure have good taste, I heard she’s easy. Good luck getting her to talk though, I guess she’s only loud in bed” 

Bev remained stock-still, not even blinking. She didn’t know Henry even knew of her, let alone know enough about her to come up with those insults. The boys avoided her eyes as she looked around at them. 

“This kinda shit happens a lot. I’m sorry Bev” Eddie whispered as he looked up to her, “We usually just ignore them” 

It wasn’t like Bev had wanted one of them to stand up for her, but a little defense would have been nice. She wasn’t surprised, however. She had been taught never to rely on men, so God knows why she would start now. 

Bev’s legs felt like jello as she stood up, her gaze burning into the back of Henry’s head, where he and his goons were walking away. It was now or never, and Bev’s never been the indecisive kind. 

“Hey asshole!” She yelled out “Don’t need to talk to say this!”. She raised both middle fingers high in the air. 

Henrys’ eyebrows shot up, but the look of surprise was quickly replaced by a maniacal grin. 

“Like I said,’ He yelled back, “Good choice! It’ll be more fun to fuck with you dweebs now that one of you has enough balls to fight back!” 

Henry and his goons turned out of the cafeteria as Bev all but collapsed back in her seat, meeting four sets of blown eyes. Her hands shook as the adrenaline rushed out of her body, and her legs felt like if she stood up she might fall over. 

“Where the hell did you pull that one out of Red?” Richie gasped. No accent, no joke, just genuine shock. 

“Seriously” Bill proclaimed “He’s been m-messing with u-us for years, and y-you just shut his d-down with one sentence” 

“It wasn’t, like, that big a deal” Bev squeaked out, already curling back in on herself. Nobody was more shocked at her outburst than her 

“Are you shitting me? Bev that was fucking insane” Stan dead-panned

Bev smiled but didn’t respond. Richie might be a lot to handle, but his friends seemed cool, and if it meant she got to hang out with them more, she could definitely put up with him poking her to make crude comments during class (and his occasional snoring). 

\-----------------------------

Bev remembers the first time she noticed Ben, only a week before christmas break. Despite them having gone to school together for the whole year, Ben was equally as quiet as her. It gave her comfort that her methods were effective, considering that he had managed to fly under her radar. And she was observant. It was hard to not get noticed by Bev. 

The first time she really thought about him, not seen him in passing, was when he dropped his pencil and it rolled next to her desk, prompting her to give it back. She wasn’t stupid; she saw him give the pencil a nudge with his foot. 

Bev wasn’t quite sure what it meant, but after this, she started noticing him trying to get her attention more and more. Whether it was ‘accidentally’ bumping into her when class got out, or coincidentally always reaching for the same book or paper as her, he simply wasn;t content with being ignored by her like most kids in the class were. 

After having to pick up and return his pen for the third time that week, Bev glared at Richie as he made a quiet wolf whistle. 

“Miss Marsh, you have got yourself a little admirer” he whispered 

“Can it Rich” 

“You think I haven’t noticed him trying to get your attention all week? You kiddin’ me?”

“Shut up” She kicked him leg, earning her a look from the teacher, which she wilted under “But,” she whispered, “Do you think that’s what his deal is? You think he likes me?” 

“Red” He dead panned, “You're joking. I’ve never seen a more desperate attempt for someone’s attention in my life, and that includes me”

“Well… maybe that would explain why I’m seeing him in the hallway all the time now” 

“That ain’t no coincidence Bevvy-girl. He wants to play tonsil tennis” 

She kicked his ankle again, but had trouble suppressing the grin. 

\------------------------

Richie pinched Bill in the arm while they walked through the hallway, and pointed at the short head of straight blond hair that walked a few yards ahead of them. The two of them weaved in between other occupants of the hallway, and were quick to match Ben’s pace, on either side of the boy. 

“So blondie” Richie started, putting his arm around Bens’ shoulders “I’ve noticed the way you’ve been macking on our sweet Bevvie” 

“I.. don’t know what you’re talking about” Ben stammered, his face quickly turning beet red

“Th-there’s n-nothing wrong with th-that” Bill assured him, keying in on the fact that he was most likely going to have to play good cop here. 

“Beverly? She’s that redhead.. Right?” 

“Benny-boy I’m pretty sure we’re past the point of formalities my good chap! Just admit you want to ask her out out, and assuming you’re not a serial killer, we can certainly warm her up to the idea” 

“I don’t want to as-” Ben stopped suddenly “You guys will help me? Really?” 

“Of c-course B-ben. We want y-you and Bev h-happy, as long as y-you're not a s-s-serial killer of course” 

“Well… I’m not a serial killer or a killer at all, so if you guys are willing’ to help i’d really appreciate it” 

Bill and Richie made eye contact above Ben’s head. 

“Course we’ll help Benny-boy”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is so friggin hard to write conversations with a bunch of people lol fuck me. Merry xmas if ya celebrate, happy holidays if ya don't. If ur like me and holidays are hard as hell, then good luck (you'll get through it I promise)
> 
> Bye sweethearts  
> V

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all. This is my first time writing so please keep that in mind. Hopefully I'll improve lol. I'll try to update regularly, but im also famously unreliable, so maybe don't hold me to that. This isn't the end though! It'll probably be a long one. 
> 
> Toodles!  
> -V


End file.
